The Pressure of Perfection
by FeelingSmall
Summary: When Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy become the heads of their year, they'll find out that they have more in common than they thought. WARNING: this story includes/will include child abuse, self-harm, and anorexia. DO NOT READ IF YOU FIND THIS TRIGGERING.
1. Chapter 1

Hermione Granger sat back in her seat on the Hogwarts Express and breathed a heavy sigh, contemplating the day's events. She had gotten up and immediately gone to the loo to measure her weight, as she had done for everyday of the past summer. Almost gagging at the sight of her weight, which had been 8 stone 13 pounds, she had stepped slowly off the scale and slipped into a thin navy jumper and skinny jeans. Pulling her wild hair into a ponytail, she had grabbed her trunk (which had been packed for weeks) and walked hurriedly down the stairs. She had passed her mother asleep on the couch but didn't bother to say goodbye, knowing she wouldn't care.

Hermione had walked with her trunk to the train station, which was conveniently placed nearly 3 miles from her house, and ran straight into platform 9 and three-quarters. Once she had gotten there, she had quickly boarded the train and headed to compartment number 1. She had thrown her trunk onto the seat and sat down, 45 minutes early for her 7th and last year of Hogwarts.

Draco Malfoy walked briskly, taking deep breaths in an attempt to steady himself. His father had just beaten his mother again and he felt utterly horrid for leaving her alone. He needed to go to school though, to get away from all of the horrid events of this summer. It had been his first summer attending real Death Eater meetings, and it had been hard not to be scarred for life at the end of one of those. At one point during the summer, Draco had watched the Cruciatus curse being used on a second year for no reason other than that she was muggle-born. Attempting to be strong and putting his usual sneer onto his pale face, he hopped onto the train with 5 minutes to spare.

Hermione looked up from her daydream when she heard somebody fiddling with keys in the compartment door. Now would be the time when she found out who would be Head Boy with her for the upcoming school year. Hermione almost cringed when she saw that Draco Malfoy had come through the door, but stopped herself just in time for him to turn around and make a face.

"I guess that I should have figured as much," said Draco, "I mean you are top of our year."

He shrugged, then lifted his trunk onto the rack above their heads with ease. Hermione was shocked by his civil response towards her. She looked him over carefully and noticed that something was different about Malfoy, something she couldn't quite place her finger on. His skin was a lot paler than last year and he had definitely lost a decent amount of weight. His eyes had lost their usual shimmer of mischief and now just appeared dead. He no longer had on his conceited smirk, but instead a solemn frown that gave Hermione an uncomfortable feeling.

Draco turned around and sat down on his seat with an Advanced Potions book in hand. That was when he noticed that there was definitely something different about Hermione Granger, and something he didn't like. Her eyes no longer sparkled with the joy of so many new things to be learned and adventures to be had. Her hair was much thinner than it had been last year and the bones of her wrist could be seen. She had a defensive look to her now, like she was scared of the world, not that he could blame her for that one.

The two sat in comfortable silence, Draco with his potions textbook and Hermione with her history of magic textbook, until there was a knock on the compartment door. The knock cause Draco to jump, who blushed from embarrassment and hoped Granger hadn't seen. She hadn't, and she had already gotten the door to reveal Professor McGonagall, who began talking immediately.

"I'd like to congratulate both of you for being the heads of your year," she began with a smile, "A lot of planning and preparation went into deciding the heads for this year, and we've decided on you two. Now there were several reasons behind this, but what we really wish to do is to promote house unity. Albus and I would both like to request that you do your best to get along throughout the year." Professor McGonagall looked up expectantly and both of the students nodded in agreement. "Good. I've also been asked to hand out the N.E.W.T. results to all seventh years," she said, handing an envelope to each of them.

"Have a pleasant ride back to school," McGonagall said as she shut the compartment door.

Hermione was the first to open her envelope, and Draco just watched her facial expressions. Her N.E.W.T. report revealed that her scores were as follows:

Arithmancy: O

Astronomy: O

Care of Magical Creatures: O

Charms: O

Defense Against the Dark Arts: 0

Divination: E

Herbology: O

History of Magic: O

Muggle Studies: O

Potions: O

Study of Ancient Runes: O

Transfiguration: O

Any other Hogwarts student probably would've been thrilled with the scores, but not Hermione. Now aware that Malfoy was watching her intently, she tried hard not to let her face fall. She opened her trunk and placed the envelope inside, thinking that she couldn't do anything right. She was fat, ugly, and now stupid, too. Sometimes she wondered why she either bothered trying.

Draco couldn't decipher how Granger had done from her reaction, so he assumed she'd probably gotten all Os. Draco slowly opened the envelope and hoped that he had done just as well. His father had put so much pressure on him to do perfectly in school, and all Draco had wanted to do since he was little was to please his father. He opened his N.E.W.T. report and read these results:

Arithmancy: O

Astronomy: O

Care of Magical Creatures: E

Charms: O

Defense Against the Dark Arts: 0

Divination: O

Herbology: O

History of Magic: O

Muggle Studies: O

Potions: O

Study of Ancient Runes: O

Transfiguration: O

Any other Hogwarts student would've been thrilled with the scores, but not Draco. In all honesty, he wanted to curl into a ball and cry himself to sleep. But that wouldn't have been acceptable, because that's not what Malfoys do. He just had to toughen up and accept the fact that his father would probably come down to the school tonight to beat and torture him for the one E. It seemed as though he had fallen short of his childhood dream of making his father proud once again.

Both seventh year students curled up against their seats clinging to their textbooks, using all of their focus to not break down and cry. The last thing that they wanted was to appear weak in front of the other.


	2. Chapter 2

After about an hour on the train, the trolley witch came around to the compartments.

"Would either of you like anything?" the trolley witch asked, motioning to the cart full of sweets.

"No, thank you," the students responded in unison.

Draco was far too anxious to even think about food at the moment. Although he was absolutely thrilled to be back at Hogwarts, the thought of what was soon to come left him feeling as though he wouldn't be able to hold any food down regardless. He knew that he would have to eat at the feast or else his friends would get suspicious, so there was no need to glutton himself at the moment.

Hermione instinctively placed her hands on her stomach once the trolley witch had left and sighed to herself. She could finally feel a subtle outline of her ribs, but the fat from yesterday's binge covered her hipbones and lower stomach. She wished that she could be like her friends who ate whatever they wished and remained extremely thin, but she knew that life was unfair and that she had to work for what she wanted in this world. She ignored the growl in her stomach and promised herself that she would eat nothing more than a glass of pumpkin juice at the feast.

The rest of the train ride was fairly uneventful for the head boy and girl, who sat in comfortable silence, each involved in their own book work. They probably would have continued had 5:30 not rolled around. This was when the train pulled up to where it would left them off at Hogwarts. The two put their books away and grabbed their drunks as soon as the train halted. Since it was the heads' duties to make sure every student on the train made it to Hogwarts safely, they would be last to the feast, not that either one of them really minded.

Once all of the students were on their way to the castle, Draco and Hermione tossed their trunks into one carriage and climbed in.

"Can you see them?" Hermione asked suddenly, pointing towards the thestrals.

"I had heard about them before, but I couldn't actually see them until this year," replied Draco, "what about you?"

Hermione's face grew a great deal more solemn, if that was possible, as she answered, "I've been able to see them since I was a second year."

"Oh," Draco responded somewhat awkwardly, "Sorry...Who was it?"

"It was two people actually. My father and my cousin," Hermione answered, surprised at herself that she was sharing something so personal with somebody she had considered to be an enemy until several hours ago. "And you?"

"Nobody important," Draco said, looking at the floor, although he knew that wasn't true. He had watched his best friend be killed by the Dark Lord this summer. He remembered the events of that day so vividly. Blaise Zabini, his best friend since before his first year at Hogwarts, had been scared to death to go to his first Death Eater meeting because he knew that his father had recently upset Lord Voldemort. That was the first day that Draco had seen Blaise Zabini cry. He had wept onto his shoulder just moments before the Dark Lord had killed him as an example of what would happen should you disobey him.

The carriages arrived at Hogwarts, and the Head Boy and Head Girl gathered their belongings, dreading walking into the Great Hall far more than the other knew.

The two got inside and sat down at their designated spots for Head Boy and Girl, directly opposite each other. Soon after, the first years began to come in and be sorted into their houses. Dumbledore then gave his usual speech about house unity and the importance of staying strong in the face of evil. "Let the festivities commence!" he concluded as trays full of food appeared on each table.

Hermione looked on, disgusted, while she saw many underclass men stuffing their faces in a way quite similar to wild animals. She started to panic when she realized that Malfoy was sitting right across from her and would surely realize if she didn't eat anything. She noticed that all he had on his plate was a bread roll and a small piece of chicken. He slowly cut the chicken into pieces and tore small chunks off of the bread, eating as though he had the flu and was scared that he would vomit if he over ate.

"What's wrong, Granger?" Draco asked, his tone curious yet unconcerned.

"I'm just not very hungry is all," Hermione replied, looking at the pumpkin juice that she was swishing around in her glass. Draco shrugged and continued to slowly eat his food, trying hard not to cause any unnecessary attention to himself.

Once the remainder of the students has filed out of the great hall by year, following the prefects, the heads met up with Professor McGonagall, who was going to show them where the Head's quarters would be.

"This is where you two will be staying," Professor McGonagall said, stopping outside a portrait of a snake and a lion, "you two can decide together on the password." She then walked away, leaving Hermione and Draco to explore their living space on their own.

"What should we make the password?" Draco asked, turning to Hermione.

"Hmm..." Hermione thought, wracking her brain for an idea, "How about in pace et cooperationem?"

"Peace and cooperation," Draco translated with a small grin, "Sounds like a plan."


	3. Chapter 3

Hermione got to her bedroom and opened her trunk, looking over the items she had brought with her. She had 14 pairs of pants, 14 normal shirts, 14 pairs of pajamas, 7 bras, 7 pairs of underwear, 7 school robes, 2 dresses, and 5 pairs of shoes, which she packed into her dresser. She pulled out the school bag that she had packed, already full with the books of the 12 advanced classes she was taking this year. The heads were made to share a bathroom, so she knocked before placing her towels and shower caddy inside. She took a small bag containing 20 galleons and 100 muggle pounds and stashed it underneath her mattress with her journal, the first thing she had unpacked.

Taking her wand out and shoving it in her boot, her eyes drifted to the last object in her trunk. There were several razor blades in a plastic ziplock bag, which she picked up and held firmly in her palm. She had spent a long time debating over whether or not to bring them. Part of her was almost convinced that if she didn't bring them she wouldn't want them: "out of sight, out of mind." The other part (which happened to win) told her that knowing she couldn't would just make her want to cut more. She knew that part was right, because that's exactly what happened her fourth year. Granted there was a lot of stress from Harry being in the triwizard cup, but not having razors packed just made it worse when she finally got her hands on some.

She jumped when somebody knocked on the door and she still had the bag of razor blades in her hand. Quickly stashing the bag with her money underneath the mattress, she opened the door to reveal a rather frazzled looking Draco.

"Can we talk for a minute?" Draco asked, eyes darting around nervously.

Hermione would have normally said no without even considering, but the panic-stricken expression on Draco's face had unnerved her. She agreed, exiting her room and sitting down on the leather couch. Draco sat down next to her. The two stated at each other for a moment before Hermione prompted with a "well?"

"Listen," Draco began, avoiding eye contact by gazing into the fireplace, "I need you to promise me something."

Again, Hermione normally would have responded negatively without a second thought, but the urgency carved into Malfoy's features made her stop. "What would this promise be?"

Malfoy began to wring his hands together anxiously as he said, "Don't come into my room tonight. No matter what you hear."

Hermione was somewhat hesitant but nodded in agreement. A million questions ran through her mind about what her promise could possibly mean. What was she going to hear tonight? Why would she go inside Malfoy's room in the first place? Why did he seem so nervous? Malfoy just got off the couch and stiffly walked back to his room, looking panicky yet exhausted.

Hermione wasn't used to seeing Malfoy freak out about anything. He usually just had a conceited smirk or a detached look plastered onto his face. Although confused and a little shaken, Hermione decided to go upstairs and get changed into her pajamas. She picked out a pair of dark purple sweatpants that were 2 sizes too big and a lavender tank top and headed into the bathroom to brush her teeth.

She pulled her journal and a pen out from under the mattress and looked over her progress. She had only lost 5 pounds since beginning her diet in mid-July. She put her journal away and laid down on her bed, pinching her stomach fat. Disgusting. She thought she'd have at least lost a stone by now, but all she'd lost was 5 stinking pounds. Why couldn't she look thin like the rest of the teenagers girls? She knew it wasn't her imagination; 8 stone 13 pounds was well above average for a girl of 5'3". The BMI charts online had told her so. Feeling like a failure but determined not to waste her night, Hermione got out her Divination textbook and began to reread it.

Draco Malfoy sat on his still-made bed in boxers and a t-shirt, not bothering to unpack his trunk or do anything productive. He had a Care of Magical Creatures book open on his lap to make it appear as if he were doing something. His eyes swam over the words, absorbing nothing. He had practically memorized the book cover to cover on the train ride to school. He knew there was nothing he could do about what would happen tonight besides wait. He wanted to puke.

As if on queue, Lucius Malfoy apparated into his son's bedroom, causing him to jump. "Draco," his father greeted with a curt nod.

"Father," Draco returned.

"Do you remember our conversion from last year about N.E.W.T. scores, Draco?" Mr. Malfoy began, walking slowly towards where Draco was sitting on his bed.

"Yes, sir," Draco responded, knowing that it was better not to fight what was happening.

"I see you've already taken the liberty of removing your trousers," Lucius hissed with snarled lips, "Kneel beside the bed."

Draco did as he was told and endured a painful beating with his fathers belt in silence. He had gotten so used to being beaten over the past years that those 150 strokes with the belt had seemed like nothing. His only concern was that Granger could hear the loud smacks through the wall. Lucius hit his son mercilessly 50 more times before telling him to stand.

Clearly not satisfied with Draco's response to the beating, he pulled out his wand. Draco turned to face his father, new bruises forming from his shoulders to knees but an unbroken look on his face. Draco's father hit his own son with the Cruciatus curse, causing him to wriggle on the ground in pain but not to yell out. Lucius cursed his son again.

This time he screamed.


	4. Chapter 4

Hermione was in her room studying her Divination book when she heard a noise coming from Malfoy's room. At first she thought she had heard wrong, but soon realized she had been right. She felt sick to her stomach. She knew exactly what a belt sounded like when it hit somebody. Her father had gotten drunk and beaten her a few times back before he left. He probably deserves it, Hermione thought to herself, though deep inside she knew that something wasn't right.

She wasn't very concerned until over a minute had passed and the sounds hadn't stopped. She then began to question what was actually going on in there. Surely Malfoy would have made some sort of noise by now if he was being beaten? The thought of what could be going on in the room just next to hers scared Hermione, and she curled up under her sheets. She began to wince whenever the noise would come again and grabbed the razors from under her mattress. She clung them close to her chest and wished that she knew what was going on. She hated feeling helpless.

Finally, the noises stopped and Hermione hoped that the worst of it was over. She felt her face, which was wet with tears. She hadn't even realized that she'd been crying. I mean it was Malfoy after all; she'd hated Malfoy ever since she was a first year. But he's still a person, the other side of her brain pointed out, and nobody deserves that.

She for one should know. Thinking about Malfoy being so poorly treated, although she still didn't completely get along with him, made her heart ache. She thought back to experiences with her own father and how being mistreated not only left physical scars, but emotional ones that sometimes hurt even worse. Emotional scars that occasionally led to even more physical scars.

Then, breaking the heavy silence, came a blood-curdling scream from the other side of the wall. Hermione recognized that voice and jumped out of bed to run for the door, but then remembered her promise. She wouldn't enter Malfoy's room no matter what she heard. There was so much agony inside his scream, so much pain. The pain filled Hermione's head until all she could hear was the shrieking.

She wasn't thinking clearly when she ran back to the bag of razors she had left on the bed and opened them up. There was so much pain in the world, and she didn't know how to not notice it. She pulled her sweatpants down to reveal lines of white scars down her hips and inner thighs. She turned to the right and dug a blade in, slashing to the side. The screaming in the room next door stopped, but the shriek in Hermione's head continued. Hermione kept tearing through her skin until there were 8 red lines with blood dripping into each other. Looking at what she had done, Hermione began to softly weep again and pulled her sweatpants back up, laying down on her right side.

Lucius Malfoy apparated back out of his son's bedroom, leaving him panting and hardly able to breathe on the cold linoleum floor. Draco was shaking like a leaf, the remainder of the curse still coursing through his veins. His father had cursed him before, but never used the Cruciatus curse. It felt as though he had been punched with flaming swords throughout his entire body.

After what seemed like an eternity, Draco mustered up the strength to sit. He was still shaking feverishly and doubted that his legs could support him, but eventually managed to drag himself into bed. That night, Draco did something that he hadn't done in a long time and that Malfoys were never allowed to do. He cried.

Not only did he cry, but he wept until he ran out of tears. He grabbed a pillow and sobbed for all he was worth into the soft fabric, even when the tears ran out. He cried so hard that he gasped for air and his body convulsed back and forth. He thought that at this point he couldn't possible get any lower. The tears wouldn't stop even after he had calmed down. Seventeen years of emotions that had been bottled up finally crashed down a wall somewhere inside Draco's mind.

So both of the teenagers, not wizards or students or perfect little angels, just teenagers, curled into balls atop their beds and wept. They sobbed into their pillows, completely oblivious that there was another child just next door who knew exactly how they felt. They cried themselves to sleep, slowly drifting off to a peaceful land where nobody, not their fathers, not each other, not even themselves, could hurt them.


	5. Chapter 5

Hermione jumped as her alarm went off at 5:00. She turned it off and yawned, stretching her arms. On reflex, she got yoga pants and an old t-shirt from her dresser. She walked out the front door of her room and then of the building, knowing that nobody would be awake yet. The sun was just starting to peek up from the horizon when Hermione began running. Her route was engraved into her memory, and what she really needed right now was familiarity. Running was comforting.

She raced along the left side of the school, past Hagrid's Hut and the lake, around the back of the school, then across the Quidditch pitch on the right of the school. When she had successfully ran the 4 miles around the school and stopped right where she had finished on the front walkway, it was 5:45. To Hermione, there was nothing like an early morning run to clear your head.

Hermione got back to the heads' room just as it was rounding 6:00, quickly mumbling the password "in pace et cooperationem" before stepping through the porthole. She was surprised to see Malfoy, dressed dressed already in his school robes, cooking breakfast in their small kitchen. He didn't acknowledge her presence if he had seen her, so Hermione ran up to her room and grabbed a shirt, skinny jeans, and a school robe.

She locked the bathroom door to Malfoy's bedroom before hopping into the shower. Letting the cold water wash over her, she ran her hands over her figure. She could feel a small outline of her ribs and hip bones, but still had a decent amount of fat on her thighs and lower stomach. Hermione dried herself off and pulled the scale out from its hiding place underneath the bathroom sink. Taking a shaky breath, she looked down at the glowing red numbers, which determined her weight this morning to be 123.5 pounds.

Smiling to herself, she left the bathroom knowing that she had lost 1.5 pounds in one day since she had been at Hogwarts. It wasn't anywhere close to her goal weight, but an improvement nonetheless. Tying her unruly hair into a messy side braid and walking carelessly down the stairs, Malfoy started to come into view, standing and holding a plate full of eggs and toast.

The two students made eye contact, and Draco nodded a greeting to Hermione. "Hey," she said back, going over to the coffee brewer and placing a cup inside. Turning back to face Draco, she took a deep breath to work up some nerve before quietly questioning, "Care to explain what happened last night?"

Draco kept his eyes on his breakfast as he answered, "Exactly what you think happened, that's why I'm standing while I eat."

A few moments passed in uncomfortable silence until Draco finished his plate and walked over to the kitchen sink to wash it. Hermione noticed that he was walking very stiffly and even with a slight limp. He winced slightly with each step, and Hermione almost noticed herself doing the same thing out of empathy.

"He really hurt you, didn't he?"

This question was even softer than the first, as Hermione didn't want to overstep her boundaries and risk Malfoy getting offended. When he didn't answer, Hermione continued with a quiet, "I know what that feels like." Draco turned his head, giving Hermione a look of disbelief. "My dad used to beat both my mom and I quite a lot. In the end, I think it did more psychological damage than physical, as pathetic as that sounds," Hermione said while looking at her fingernails, unsure why she was being so uncharacteristically open about her private life.

"That's not pathetic," Draco said, finally looking up to meet the gaze of the girl he'd just gained so much respect for. "It just makes you human."

"If you don't mind me asking," Draco continued, "How old were you?"

"It started happening as early as I can remember and stopped when I was 14 years old, the summer between third year and forth year."

"What made him stop?" Draco countered, his eager tone full of curiosity. His eyes shimmered ever so slightly, and Hermione knew that he would probably do anything to have a loving relationship with the man who brought him into the world.

"He took off one day to go meet some buddies at the bar. My mother and I never saw him again." Hermione responded with blatant honesty, her expression blank and unreadable.

"Oh," Draco said as he realized how wrong he had been to assume that the 'perfect' girl had a perfect life. "I'm really sorry."

Hermione's response was just "don't be" and a small shrug, showing her nonchalance and indifference about the subject. She walked over and grabbed her coffee from the brewer, leaving it black and putting a lid on top. The time was dwindling down for her to get to class, as it was 6:45, so she slung her school bag over her shoulder and headed off to her first period class, knowing that it was going to be a long year, or at least a long day.


End file.
